


I have forgotten who I am

by schrijverr



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Horror, Psychological Horror, but the person does not trust their reality anymore, please do not read if you're sensative to that sort of thing, technically no warnings apply
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27292363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schrijverr/pseuds/schrijverr
Summary: In honor of Halloween a psychological horror story about a person who has forgotten who they are, despite the fact that they can remember everything. They try to tell you while getting more and more frantic, but just listen, you aren’t listening.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	I have forgotten who I am

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find this on tumblr, which is @schrijverr as well. Hope you pop in and say hi, cause I'd love to talk to y'all! :D

I have forgotten who I am.

No that’s not true. I haven’t suffered from some sort of medical issue that made me forget who I was or anything. I still know my name and my hobbies and my job, I even remember my family. I know all these things. But I’m starting to doubt myself.

When I say I have forgotten who I am, I don’t mean it so literal.

I don’t mean my entire mind is blank and it’s a miracle I remember the words I have been taught. It’s nothing like that, not at all. It’s just misty.

You know, how sometimes there will be a fog that rolls into town? It’s nothing big or bothersome and from a safe place inside it can be kind of nice, atmospherically really. Logically you know it’s just a bit of condensation, but it leaves everything a bit hazy and then you’re not sure anymore. Was there always a tree in that spot or is it someone watching your home?

Everything is just blurred around the edges.

I don’t know when it first started. The more I try to focus, the more the fog has been there the entire time, but I just hadn’t noticed it yet, like the curtain was still drawn or I hadn’t looked outside that day. I just know that one day I looked into my closet and was surprised to find a bunch of suits there.

I know that is nothing strange, just listen.

I asked my wife about the suits. She told me that I always wore them to my job at the office. I’ve worked there for years, you know. She seemed quite worried when she told me and I didn’t know what to respond. So, I just put them on and left for work and I didn’t mention it again.

It is strange though. Those suits just felt off and the job wasn’t for me. It just felt wrong, like I wasn’t supposed to be there, like I didn’t belong there and I should be somewhere else. But for the life of me, I can’t think where I should have been.

Now this sounds like midlife crisis, but it isn’t.

It’s not.

I looked in the mirror in that bathroom and it wasn’t right. I didn’t work there, I am sure of it. I worked somewhere outside, I must have. I- I missed the wind. There isn’t any wind inside, but I looked it up later and everywhere I look it says I’ve been working in that cubicle for years now, no promotion in sight and probably the first thrown out if they need to downsize. It isn’t glamorous and I know it must be done still, but it isn’t what I do. It is wrong, it is not me.

I think I started to notice it then.

Apparently I like to fish, but although I have been fishing for years, according to what I can find, the movements are clumsy and it pains me to see the fish. They writhe on that hook, trapped and alone, all because they were a little hungry and trying to survive. It just isn’t fair to do that to them for sport. I’d much rather draw the beautiful lake, but we don’t have drawing supplies and there’s a mental block stopping me whenever I try.

I don’t know why I can’t bring myself to even doodle a bit.

But that’s not even the strangest thing, no, we went to see my parents recently. My wife insisted on it, saying something about an anniversary, so I went. I went and I swear to you that I did not know the people that opened the door. For a split second I was taken aback by the strangers in a familiar house, but now I can’t get them out of my memories.

I must have other parents, real parents. The people I made memories with, not those two impostors, but they are all I can picture now when I recall my childhood. They’ve filled in the vacant places of two people I can’t remember. 

But that might be an exaggeration.

My wife seems to know them, she didn’t seem surprised at all to find those two there. Maybe it was just an hallucination, a trick of the mind. Still, with everything, I’m unsure. 

If I’m honest, I’m keeping a closer eye on my wife now. There is nothing suspicious, yet, but I don’t know if I ever really married her, despite the wedding pictures on the wall.

It were all small things, but they don’t add up. First it was the job, then the fishing and now my parents. Everything is wrong, not horribly so, but a shade off. Not right. I cannot describe it as anything other than how I’ve begun.

I have forgotten who I am.

I am living a fabricated life that is not my own and I don’t know how I got here. I have a job that is not mine, hobbies that I don’t like and a family that I don’t even know. I must have been taken and put into a new life of someone else, while everyone around me has been brainwashed to believe I am this person, but I’m not.

No, don’t walk away, please. You’re the only one I can trust right now.

It sounds strange. I barely met you, but you’ve made it this far and you’re willing to listen. I just need to tell you this, it seems important somehow. You feel right. Not in a creepy way, of course. Just trustworthy, familiar. Not a tad to the left like everything else in my life right now. 

We haven’t met before, have we?

Of course not. Why would we? You’re a stranger I met, maybe you’re not even here too, maybe I’m just babbling to myself and imagining someone here just so I don’t feel crazy. I’m not though, I’m not.  
The fog is still here.

I looked through my window and I opened the curtain, but instead of being safe and inside watching it, I’m outside in the middle of it and I’m trying to make sense of where I am going, but nothing is the way to should be. I haven’t walked here before, but I should have or I’m not where I think I am. There wasn’t a tree there. There wasn’t.

Do you understand?

Do you see?

I have forgotten who I am.

Not because my mind is blank and I have no memories. It’s nothing like that at all. I know everything about me, including the fact that I am not all these memories and hobbies or that job. It’s not me, but I don’t know who else I would be.

I’m sorry about all that. I’ve just been ranting at you this whole time. How very rude of me, I haven’t even asked you your name. I don’t know why I did that, maybe I thought I knew you or something. Lets start over: what’s your name?

Really? But that’s- but that’s my name…

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first attempt ever at writing horror and I think it turned out okay, but let me know in the comments what you thought! I'd love to hear it :D


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